Of Monsters and Men
by Juliet DeMarcus
Summary: Post "Hell's Bells," Halfrek exacts vengeance on Xander, Willow and Buffy. Spike must make unknown sacrifices that may destroy him, if he's to save them. Ch. 3 is up: lots of Spike and Xander (*not slash*). Angel crossover eventually.
1. Chapter One

Title: Of Monsters and Men  
Author: Juliet DeMarcus  
Spoilers: Up to and including "Hell's Bells"  
Summary: Two days after Anya and Xander's almost-wedding, Halfrek gets the opportunity she's been waiting for ... to perform some major vengeance or, justice as she calls it, on Xander, Buffy and Willow. Spike must come face to face with a part of his past he would rather forget.  
Disclaimer: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" sadly does not belong to me. It belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox and UPN...(did I cover all of them?), so let's not dwell on it, okay? Or I'm going to get upset. At least the story is mine.   
Rating: R - Just to be safe for all chapters.  
Feedback: Yes, please! Just be a little bit gentle with me, this is my first posting.  
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The wedding was over. And it had become the nightmare that seemed now a dark cloud over all of them. Anya was at the apartment. They could hear her inside, but she would not respond to their calls other than crying out from time to time, "Go away! Go away and leave me alone like he did. I don't want any of you!" She sounded as if she'd been crying since Xander had walked out the doors of the Sunnydale Bison Lodge and left her to walk up the aisle, alone.   
  
They had all tried to talk to her, outside the door to what had been the home of the formerly happy couple. Each of them remembering how good things had been for them together in that place before the wedding, before everything had fallen into that huge hole in the ground that seemed to swallow and consume all relationships on the Hellmouth.   
  
Why was it that it had to end so badly? Wouldn't it have been better had they never decided to get married in the first place? Then they would still be happy, laughing and, of course, having sex in that very apartment where now sat only Anya, crying and yelling at those who approached the door to try to coax her out. It just didn't make sense. Wasn't getting married supposed to be a good thing for a couple who was happy and in love and had everything going for them. Good jobs with good incomes, a lovely apartment, friends who loved them. They had survived an apocalypse together! What had caused this breakdown? Why had Xander turned away? No one knew the answer to that.  
  
  
So each of them tried in vain to talk Anya out, telling her that it would be okay in the end, she'd see. They all told her that Xander still loved her and that she needed to come out and talk to them about what had happened...that she would feel better if she did. They said everything they could think of. Buffy, Willow, Dawn and Tara had all been by, but she never even came close to letting any one of them in. She only cried and screamed. They had finally decided to leave her alone. Only she would decide when she wanted to come out again. Willow had gone around town looking for her best friend, the runaway groom, but Xander too seemed to have disappeared.  
  
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"I wonder if he left town," Dawn spoke quietly over breakfast with Willow and Buffy the second morning after the nightmare that had almost been the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Xander Harris.   
  
The doom and gloom was still hanging over each of them in the kitchen as Willow made pancakes and dished them out to Buffy and Dawn. Nothing was said for minutes.   
  
"He's probably still in town... You know, laying low. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to be anywhere within range of Anya right now. I mean, she's probably...well,... we know she's still pretty upset with him." Buffy looked to Willow for confirmation of her thoughts.   
  
After all Buffy had only known Xander since high school, even though he was like a brother to her. Willow had known Xander since they were babies...she had been in love with him for years. Right now Willow wore a stressed and worried expression, the same one she had worn since the wedding fiasco, as she considered what to say.  
"I don't know, Buffy. I mean, I would understand him being afraid to face Anya...Hello? Ex-vengeance demon stood up at her own wedding...not too good a thing to face...but, to avoid me and you and all of us? I mean...he's *never* avoided me before. When something was wrong we'd talk about it. I mean I thought he would always tell me everything."   
  
No one said anything and Willow's voice left a heavy sadness in the air around her. Finally after picking at her pancake with her fork until it no longer really resembled a pancake she spoke again, her voice low, trying to disguise the guilt and hurt it contained.. "I guess he hasn't been telling me everything for awhile now." Buffy looked up into her friend's eyes to see them glassy with unshed tears.   
  
"Willow, you can't think that this is yo--"  
  
"I am his best friend, Buffy! At least...I was. I always have been. We were drooling infants together and kids fighting over dolls, although Xander probably wouldn't want me talking about that...but, I was supposed to be there for him. He's always been there for me. And here I've been so distracted with my magic and trying to win Tara back and so self-absorbed that I didn't even see what was going on. If I had even thought to ask maybe he would've told me and we could've solved this before...well before everything went so *bad*."  
  
"None of us saw it," Dawn interjected again in her quiet tone, trying to help Willow deal with her guilt. She had been guilty enough over the past months with first betraying Tara's trust by casting a spell on her and then knowing that her magic addiction had almost led to Dawn's death.   
  
  
Dawn, for her part felt beat up inside. Let down in life. All around her there were people whose hearts were silently breaking. Buffy had not been the same since she'd come back from heaven...and really who could blame her? Plus, with their mother being gone and Giles being gone and Riley being gone until recently when he had returned with a perfect wife...then left again, after showing Buffy how happy he was without her. Not to mention the dreaded Double Meat Palace lifestyle! Dawn could hardly look at her sister sometimes, when the misery and loneliness just shone out of her eyes like a reverse light. A dark beacon crying out to everyone: 'why did you bring me back? Couldn't you know I was happy and just let me go? I'll never be happy again...'   
  
  
Then there was Willow. Losing Tara and being unable to practice magic, something she had worked so hard at for so long. It had been Willow's dream to become a powerful Wicca and now that was gone forever...to try to take up that dream again could very possibly mean the end of her existence. Spike seemed miserable though not quite as much so as when Buffy was dead... He still had to deal with the fact Buffy refused to ever love him as he loved her. He had avoided all of them more and more lately. Then he even brought that skank to the wedding... Ugh!   
  
  
And as for Dawn herself? She had dealt with the loss of her mother, the death of her sister and then the resurrection of her sister from heaven in which their life became even more complicated than before, something she would have never thought possible. Having to know that Buffy would have been happier where she was than there with her was just one of the aches that daily burned inside of Dawn's heart.   
  
The knowledge that she had not existed until less than two years ago as human and was formerly a ball of cosmic energy, not really the daughter of Joyce Summers, sister of Buffy Summers, still daily weighed on her mind as well. Sometimes she thought she would never completely get over that fact. How could she? Knowing her life was something someone just made up...   
  
She had no real friends, other than Spike and he hadn't been spending any more time with her recently than Buffy had. She often felt alone, trapped in darkness, and at the root of it she wondered if she herself was the reason for so much of this unhappiness...   
  
After all if Willow hadn't gone so overboard to fight Glory, especially after what Glory did to Tara... She probably would never have gotten addicted to magic, lost control and had to give it up forever. And if Buffy had not fought Glory she wouldn't have died in the first place...   
  
Maybe even her mom would still be alive if she hadn't been so stressed about her youngest daughter who turned out to be some 'key' that was endangered by a hellgod that even her sister the slayer couldn't fight. 'It must've been so hard for mom...so painful. Knowing Buffy could die... And it's all my fault...' Dawn kept these thoughts to herself, knowing those around them would argue against them, but not knowing if they would really mean the things they said to her. She hated dwelling on the unhappiness around her that she felt certain, all had something to do with her.  
  
  
But Xander and Anya, they were happy. They had not been scarred in any way by Dawn's existence, much to her relief. They had lit up the lives of those around them with their laughter and their silly jokes and outrageous conversations. Their love had been a beacon shining out to the rest of them as they had each walked in darkness, alone.   
  
As Buffy had said they were the light at the end of the tunnel. Something they could all look forward to, finding someone and loving them and being loved in return, spending the rest of your lives together. Knowing that person trusted and understood you better than anyone and would always be there for you. That is until faced with 'til death do us part.'   
  
  
Dawn was like Willow, she wanted to be mad at Xander, knew she had every reason to, but she couldn't. All she could do was feel sorry for both of them. They were all miserable now.   
  
There would be no more laughter at Anya and Xander's strange conversations, no more inappropriate sex talk, no more watching the way he looked at her when she fell asleep on his shoulder, no more watching them dance and sing at the Bronze like crazy people, not caring what anyone thought.   
  
It all seemed so grim, for each and every one of them. Because if two people who were once so happy couldn't make it...how could any of the rest of them?  
  
  
Buffy, Willow and Dawn were all just sitting there now, staring at their uneaten breakfasts, in Willow's case, what was left of her breakfast after she had nervously attacked it with her fork. None of them had taken more than three bites, worried for their friends and wondering about the future that lay ahead of them all.   
  
Dawn spoke again trying to raise the morale of the table as well as her own spirits with a desperate attempt at optimism.   
  
"Maybe they'll get back together. Maybe, he'll go to her and explain why he did it. I mean maybe it was a good reason...that she can understand. And they'll just end up waiting a while longer to get hitched that's all."   
  
Buffy looked at Dawn's hopeful expression and smiled, but as usual the smile never reached her eyes.   
"I'm sure you're right, Dawnie...I'm sure you're right." Shaking her head yes and trying to believe the words by repeating them.   
  
Dawn just looked down to her plate of funny shaped pancakes, it was easier than looking at the two sitting with her at the table. Easier than looking at anyone now.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Anya sat wearing the white negligee she had picked out for their wedding night, on the bed that Xander and she had shared since they got their apartment together. But for the last two nights it had just been her, crying herself to sleep.   
  
Their wedding night had never come. She was sick and tired of crying. In fact, she had never been so sick and tired of anything in her life but she found just couldn't stop. It was as if her mind held no power over the endless spring of tears coming from her eyes. As if her mind could not control the pain of her heart.   
  
'Xander left me. Xander left me. Xander left me at the alter on our wedding day. Xander left...' The thoughts repeated relentlessly in her mind and she could no longer even sob.   
  
Her body was too weak and the tears simply streamed silently down her face as she sat there staring at a picture of Xander holding her in his arms, their heads leaning together, touching, both of them smiling as if they'd never been happier. Such promise in those smiles. Promise forever lost. It was the only framed picture of them in the apartment that she had not already smashed. And she just couldn't do it, not this last one.   
  
"Xander...," she whispered his name longingly to the inanimate image of him in the picture. Waiting in sadness and the last dying embers of hope to hear him speak back to her, reassuring her it had all been a bad dream, nothing more.   
  
  
Suddenly Anya heard a sound breaking the silence of the room. It was not Xander, she knew. The sound was of energy and wind. Anya looked over to her side and next to the bed stood Halfrek. She had a look of pity on her face that instantly gave Anya the strength to sob again.   
  
She crawled over to the edge of the bed, as Halfrek took in the sight of the untended wound on her arm and the mascara tracks down her blotchy face, her red eyes with darkened circles underneath.  
  
  
Halfrek looked at her sadly, seemingly feeling her pain despite any harsh words that had passed between the two when she had granted Dawn's wish and locked Anya, Xander, Buffy and the others inside Buffy's house on her birthday. Her voice filled with sympathy as she looked at the former vengeance demon's sad condition.   
  
"Anyanka,...what has he done to you?" Anya's chin quivered pathetically as she looked up into the eyes of Halfrek and saw reflected in them the awful mess that she had become.  
  
"Oh Hallie! He left me, Xander left me!" Anya cried, falling into Halfrek's arms desperately. "I should've listened to you. I never should have agreed to marry him anyway! I was so stupid and now I...hurt...so...much."   
  
Her breath was shuddering. Halfrek put her arms around her and stroked her hair gently.   
  
"You haven't even slept since," Halfrek spoke to herself softly, amazed to see Anyanka this way. She had been surprised when she'd found Anyanka, the great vengeance demon who had 'a thing' for men who did not live up to their engagements, was getting married herself.   
  
She had a bad feeling about it from the first moment she'd realized what Anyanka meant to do. But she couldn't say honestly she had expected things to go so wrong, in the way that Anyanka had reacted to it. She seemed utterly broken.  
  
"No, I can't...I can't do anything! All I can do is cry and think of Xander and cry some more and I hate- I HATE this!"   
  
"I'm so sorry, Anyanka." Anya made a whimpering sound at Halfrek's words, that reminded her of an injured animal or perhaps an injured child. "You were too good for him you know," she continued softly. "Much too good. In your prime you would have seen that early on and put him down. He deserves to be punished for what he's done to you! I mean look at you...you're a mess!"  
  
  
"Thanks." Anya said bitterly as she pulled away from Halfrek abruptly and walked over to the chair that her wedding dress and veil where carefully laid over. She just stood there in the dark, staring as if frozen by the image before her.   
  
Halfrek sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She tilted her head to the side as she studied Anya's form that stood so still staring at the immaculate wedding garments. Then Anya reached out and tenderly ran her fingers over the light, wavy material of her wedding veil.   
  
Things were quiet a few more moments while Halfrek considered how she should bring up D'Hoffrin's offer that she knew had been made. Anya was in too much of a state, yet in true vengeance demon style she decided on the direct approach.  
  
"Have you thought about D'Hoffrin's offer, to come back and be one of us? One of the powerful, the immortal, who makes life for miserable slime like Xander Harris a living hell. It's what you wanted for so long isn't it?"  
  
"He told you that?," she asked in a small voice sounding all the world to Halfrek like a little girl, this made her want to help her former sister of vengeance even more zealously.   
  
"He told me that once your powers were revoked that you tried desperately to get them back, even getting that friend of the Harris boy to help you cast a spell...but it all came to nothing. And finally you settled on this." She motioned to the surrounding interior of the bedroom as Anya turned to face her and saw Hallie's look of disdain. "Domestic bliss. You know as well as I do Anyanka, that you were not meant for this menial existence. You were a goddess as you were! Hundreds of thousands trembled at the very mention of your name! Don't you remember what it was like?"  
  
"I remember it was...nice. Not painful. There was no pain. I never even knew feeling like this was possible for me back then." Anya's eyes were focused on some faraway point beyond the bedroom's ceiling and walls, to a time and place where she could not be touched by Xander, or by any man, a time when her name was Anyanka, the great and powerful who brought vengeance to thousands upon thousands of the worthless men who spent their time breaking women's hearts. And she was worshipped for it, loved for it, and they had needed her. Again and again they had needed her. 'But who needs me now?,' her mind whimpered.   
  
  
"You could forget that it is possible again," Halfrek responded. "Wouldn't you like to go back to that. To your purpose, to your power, where you'd feel no more pain for this bug of man. Where you could squash him, like that pathetic insect he is!"   
  
But tears sprung fresh into Anya's still red eyes at the thought of harming Xander, as much as her anger tried to overtake her...she couldn't even conceive of it. However, she didn't say this to Hallie. She didn't want to look even weaker than she already did. Even more like a fool, than she had already proved herself to be.   
"I could never forget what this is like," Anya whispered.  
  
"You could with time. And you would have all the time in the world. And once you got back to your calling you would find Xander Harris a matter much faster resolved than you imagine right now. With all those humans calling out for your justice. To have the power again, the glory. And none of the pain. The pain would be just a distant memory, ever-dwindling..."  
  
The thoughts of being the all-powerful vengeance demon she once was, untouched by human feeling and emotion, death and sadness ... rejection ... all the things she had experienced since she had been turned back to humanity, gave her the strength for the first time since it had all happened to push back the tears as they threatened to overtake her.  
  
"I just don't know, Hallie. I have to... I have to have some time to think about it. I already asked D'Hoffrin... He said the offer would still stand." Hallie nodded in silent understanding.   
  
"So you are considering it. I'm glad." Hallie looked satisfied for the moment. But then she spoke again, looking hopeful. "I have another thing for you to consider..."  
  
  
Anya looked up at Halfrek, waiting for her to continue.   
"How would you like me to punish Xander Harris in the meantime, for what he's done to you. I mean, I'm sure even once you are restored to your powers, you wouldn't want to deal with him again... And why should you? He isn't even worth your time. Why not just let me eliminate him?" Anya swallowed the lump in her throat at Halfrek's words. Eliminate him. Oh God, Xander...   
"I can't."   
"Anyanka, *you* don't have to," she spoke very gently now, as if she were addressing a child. Walking up to her and putting her hand gently on Anya's shoulder she continued her case. "He did you very wrong. Everyone knows that. Even I can see that and wish to punish him, even though...as you've... correctly stated...I do concentrate more on,...unfit parents." She admitted this quietly with some guilt and difficulty but then plowed on after a moment of contemplation. "It makes me burn with anger to see how he's treated you! You have sacrificed so much for him, put up with so much...and how does he thank you? He leaves you, *abandons you at your own wedding ceremony* and not only that, but he leaves you to clean up the mess, with all your friends and his *horrible family*! He could never have truly loved you...don't you see that?"   
  
The whole time Anya was looking down at the floor, chin still quivering, but a small fire beginning in her eyes at the images that Halfrek was painting so clear in her mind.   
  
"He strung you along the entire time, used you, put you down, and then he left you after making you believe that he wanted to marry you. He didn't have to do that. He didn't have to ask you to marry him but he did, knowing full well that he could never carry through with it. Just an extra bit of cruelty to rip you to shreds, to beat you down, but you won't be beat down, will you Anyanka? You are so strong, you always have been. I know it. We all know it. That's why D'Hoffrin has offered you your job back. You were one of the best, along with myself, of course ... think of it Anyanka, he took all that you were away from you. He made you weak, he made you dependent upon him and then he pulled the rug out from under you, as they say. He is the worst of scoundrels...I bet he was probably even cheating on you with that Buffy...they looked pretty cozy before he ran out on you. I saw them! Then he and the red head, Willow were even *more* cozy together...if that's even possible."   
  
  
Anya's head swam with the words she was now hearing.   
  
"Buffy I should have known! Buffy! Buffy! Of course, it's always Buffy! If not her then Willow! Willow his 'best friend'...I always knew it was more than that! Willow was the reason he and Cordelia broke up! I even knew that and just let it slide! He always loved both of them...more than...," she could not bring herself to finish for it seemed the very sentencing of death to her human life that only two days ago held all the light and hope that she had ever known. But Halfrek finished it for her.  
  
"More than you?... Yes, he did. If you could say a man who treats a woman as he has treated you, loves her at all!"   
  
  
A terrible light shone in Anya's eyes now. No longer was she defeated, she was something far more dangerous. Still Halfrek relentlessly went on in making her case.  
  
"Oh, it makes me seethe to think on it...just think of how he treated you! What he did! There can be no excuse for it Anyanka! He only did this to hurt you. That was the objective and he has succeeded. But I can stop him for you now. I can do whatever you wish me to."   
  
Anya's eyes moved from anger to sorrow, back and forth, again and again, about a dozen times as she clenched and unclenched her fists. "I can punish all of them, even. They let this happen to you. Willow and Buffy stringing him along and him all the time with them behind your back! Playing you for a fool...we must let him know that we are not fools!"   
  
Anya's eyes were growing wilder with every word from Halfrek's lips, looking around the room in rage. As if every scrap her of 'illusion of a happy life' with Xander Harris infuriated her.   
  
  
She moved without warning now as if possessed by some inhuman speed to the bed, picked up the last picture of them that set by it and smashed it into the floor with all her strength.  
  
"He meant to do this to me!?," she sounded incredulous as she screamed it. "He's been with them all the time. I was just...someone he settled for, someone he used, he played me for a fool! Halfrek, how could I have fallen this far from what I was? How could I let him do this to me!?" She was demanding, angry at herself almost as much as Xander and Buffy and Willow.   
  
Anya stared at the shattered glass on the floor and Halfrek drew near to her again, whispering into her ear,   
"Let me settle the score for you, Anyanka. Let me pay him back for what he did."  
  
"Yes." Anya said it almost as if she were in a trance. "Pay Xander back..." Halfrek smiled at this.   
  
"What do you wish me to do to him? Just tell me and I'll do it. You'll never have to worry about him...or them, again."  
  
"Hurt him," Anya said with a sudden conviction. "Do whatever will hurt him the most. Make him feel like he makes me feel. Hurt Willow, hurt Buffy...they belong with him, don't they?... Hurt them, Hallie, please."   
  
Hallie smiled at this, stroking Anya's hair once more as if she were a little girl in need of some sort of tactile comfort.   
"I will," she whispered softly. And then she was gone.  
  
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"They were supposed to be my light at the end of the tunnel...guess they were a train," Buffy heard her own voice carried in the darkness. As if the night time air itself was filled with the sound.   
  
She could not see much. She couldn't see anything actually. She felt a rope tied tightly around her body and another body, it's back to hers, tied with her.   
  
The ropes were so tight as she began to move she felt them cut into her body as if they were made of metal and had sharp edges to them. She tried to get out of them, it should have been no problem with her slayer strength, but these obviously were no ordinary ropes that tied her together with this mystery person. And it felt as if they were getting tighter. Now each time she tried to take in a breath she felt the pain of them cutting into her.   
  
'How the hell did I get here? Where am I?,' her mind sought desperately for some remembrance that would lead her to understanding of her current situation. Yet all she could remember was falling asleep in her bed earlier and waking up in the dark, tied and blind to the scene around her.   
  
  
She looked down and she could barely see in the darkness that she was wearing almost nothing, just white underwear. 'Thought I felt a draft...' She tried to turn her head to see whose warm body was tied with her but she was bound too tightly.   
  
She could hear the breathing...actually, it sounded like two people breathing.   
  
"Hey, who are you!? Where am I!?," she demanded in as loud a voice as she could muster, she felt weak and the ropes cutting into her constantly with each breath causing more pain didn't help.  
  
"Buffy...Oh God, Buffy is that you?," she heard the voice of the person right behind her, tied back to back with her.   
  
"Xander!?"  
  
"Buffy!...hey there Buffster, you don't think you might be able to get us out of these ropes now do ya?" Obviously he was hoping for a yes but she had to disappoint them. Struggling again with the ropes she felt only more constriction and pain.   
  
Then she heard a cry of pain as the ropes continued to tighten but it was not from her or from Xander.  
  
"Oh Buffy stop....It hurts!" Cried a weak voice, filled with immense pain.  
  
"Willow?"  
  
"Yeah, she's here, she's tied facing me, she looks kinda out of it... I think the ropes are cutting into her really bad. Buffy, why can't we get out of this? What the hell are these things made out of!? For that matter, how the hell did we get into them in the first place?" She could hear the fear rising in Xander's voice.   
  
Still she could see nothing in the total darkness. Not even the mysterious ropes holding them. Not where they were. Not anything, it was just black.   
  
  
"Willow?" She heard Xander ask. There was silence. "Willow?!" He cried out in alarm now. "Oh God, Buffy, I think I feel... She's bleeding!...She's bleeding bad...I-I feel her blood all over me.," his voice shook now as he spoke. "Buffy, the ropes... The ropes, they're cutting into her!"  
  
"Willow!?," Buffy cried out desperately. "Willow!?"  
  
"Buf-fy," the voice was weaker now and she was crying. "Where are we?"  
  
"Buffy!," Xander hissed, trying to stay quiet, not wanting Willow to know... She's looking...not so good...I think it's killing her! We have to get out of this!"  
  
"Xander, I don't know what to do! I can't see...it's like I'm blind. I don't know what's holding us!" Buffy looked around desperately trying to see something, listening, trying to get any clue about where they were and how they could get out of this.   
  
She felt fear overwhelm her. Willow was dying and they would all be dead soon no doubt. She had to stop it. But if she struggled she would cut the rope into Willow even more.  
  
"How well can you see Willow? And the rope?," she asked Xander desperately trying to keep her voice calm. She could hear he was losing it, first from the tone of his voice and now from his shallow, rapid breathing.  
  
"She's passed out now and there's blood...the ropes are cutting into her chest... God Buffy," his voice broke. "They look so far into her and there's so much blood!"  
  
"Xander, Xander listen...what are the ropes made of?"  
  
"They look like normal ropes!" He sounded beyond desperate now. But then, in the distance she heard something. Far off. She made a shushing sound to Xander and concentrated on the approaching sound.   
  
It was steady, mechanical almost...it was... it sounded like a train. And then she heard it again. Her own voice like it was narrating, filled the air,   
  
"They were supposed to be my light at the end of the tunnel...guess they were a train."   
  
"What!? Buffy!? Was that you!?" Xander asked, panicked.  
  
"Shhh....Xander, be quiet," Buffy was trying but failing miserably at keeping the panic out of her voice. At least with vampires, demons, even Glory she could see who she was fighting against. Here there was nothing but darkness and they were trapped in it and Willow was dying and they were all being cut and bleed by the ropes that held them.   
  
  
The sound of the train was getting closer. Buffy felt a horror welling up in her.   
  
She tried to move the three of them over without attempting to escape the ropes but she couldn't seem to budge in them. There was a small light now, coming from her left.   
  
She turned towards it, it was a small circular orb of white light in the far distance and the sound, that chugging sound of a train was getting closer.   
"A train. Shit....oh God, we're gonna die. Buffy we have to do something!" Xander started to struggle and Buffy felt a rope slide deep into the tender flesh of her stomach, she cried out in pain as it sliced through further and another penetrated the skin at her collarbone.   
  
Willow must've come to for a moment from a similar experience because she screamed.   
  
The light from the engine of the train was close enough now she could see they were on the tracks straight ahead the train was coming on, strong and steady. Then she heard crying, but not from herself, Xander or Willow.   
  
It was farther away and she recognized the crying. It was Anya. She heard Xander calling out to Anya and turned painfully to see that indeed Anya was sitting by the tracks that were now more illuminated than before, sitting on the ground like a child bawling her eyes out. Xander called out to her over and over.   
  
"Anya!...Anya! Anya, there's a train, hurry you have to help us! Anya!" Suddenly the figure of Anya stood, and the crying sound was gone. She looked completely in control now and she stared at them, unmoving, as if she were stone. Her eyes were empty and her face, dry.  
  
"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you Xander. For me to save you so you can hurt me again. To save them because they're all you really care about." The flatness of her voice only seemed to add to the terror of the scenario. Suddenly, her once human face transformed into that of a demon. "Well I'm moving on from all that Xander. This is over for me. I'm going on to a *real* life and you...well, it's over for you too, all of you...but you aren't going on to anything."   
  
Xander was silent and Buffy could feel the chill in the air. The train was closer now. The whistle blowing loudly enough to make Buffy jump. It looked larger to Buffy than any train she'd ever seen, then again she hadn't been around that many trains...   
  
Seeing that Anya would likely be of no help to them she turned her attention once more to getting out of the ropes and heard a weak moan from Willow, as apparently the ropes cut deeper... It was no use. All her strength would not move them. It was as if they were frozen to that very spot, the ropes only there to torture their flesh in these last moments.   
  
  
Since Xander did not speak any more, Buffy now called out to Anya, knowing now it was their only hope to convince her to help them. It was slim to none, but it was all she had to work with.  
  
"Anya! Anya, please, help us! You can't want this!" But Anya simply turned and walked away. Out into the darkness where she could no longer be seen.   
  
Buffy felt as much as heard Xander crying against her at the sight of his once-love walking off into oblivion, leaving him and his two best friends to die this strange, nightmarish death.   
  
Willow made not a sound and Buffy didn't even think she had been conscious enough to know that Anya had even been there. Maybe she didn't even know about the train. 'Small mercies...'   
  
  
Seemingly out of nowhere, another voice called out from the other side of the tracks. Called out in that oh so familiar north London accent in the distance. Buffy never thought a sound could be that beautiful to her ears.  
  
"Buffy! Willow! Xander! You've got to move! There's a bloody train!" 'Nooo...really!?,' Buffy thought grimly as she watched him barrel towards them. His voice was desperate and the train was so loud now. Buffy forced herself to look again upon their oncoming demise. It was so close. Too close. She could even see a panicked man inside the engine pulling the cord for the whistle she thought.   
  
Things seem to move in slow motion. She turned back to where the voice came from to see Spike running towards them.   
  
'It's too late', she thought, closing her eyes for what she was sure would be the last time, this time. "I'm sorry Spike, for everything I'm sorry!" She called out to him as loudly as she could manage with the unnatural pain of the ropes and the panic the oncoming train inspired in her.   
  
She didn't know why but she had an overwhelming urge to apologize, to try to make peace with him in those last moments. But she did it, she didn't even know if he could hear her over the sounds of the train. She felt blood running down her body.  
  
"No! Don't you say that! I'm not going to..., going to fail you again..."   
  
'Must've heard me...vampire hearing...' He sounded out of breath, though somewhere in the back of her mind she knew he didn't need breath...maybe he was scared...   
  
Then, he was right there and the train was inches from her. She wanted to scream back at him that he hadn't failed her before...not ever. That without him she would never have stopped Angelus and the world would have been lost and he had protected Dawn the best he could against Glory.   
  
But she couldn't tell him not to blame himself. The noise was too deafening and she found herself overtaken by emotion...sorrow for her friends who were about to die, sorrow for Dawn who was going to lose her...again, and sorrow for Spike who was going to have to be there to witness her death for the second time.   
  
  
It happened so fast...he was there, about to slam into them with all his force and will, to move them out of the path of destruction. Simultaneously, Spike and Buffy screamed the same word, as Xander cried helplessly and Willow lay limp beside him. "No!"   
  
Terrible realization hit her as his body crashed into them with all the force his vampiric strength could muster, along with that strength he had worked up the speed he needed to succeed in his task. 'He never gives up...'   
  
He knocked them off the tracks. They fell heavily onto the ground. Buffy was still facing the tracks and could see him where he had fallen there after the impact that propelled them out of harms way. Still everything moved in that horrible slow motion, even as they fell. He moved quickly but it seemed so slow to her.   
  
He was up. But before he had moved another inch the train smashed into him with a force that she felt to her very core. She had no reason to think the train could kill him, but she knew. She heard him turn to dust, she felt it. Yet she hoped against hope she was wrong.  
"Spike! Spike!," she screamed and suddenly the ropes around them was no more. The train had passed.   
  
She got up and ran to the spot where he had been and there the tracks were covered in dust. She stood in shock, mouth open, unbelieving.   
  
The Spike who had tried to kill her so many times. Spike who helped her defeat Angelus. Spike who had fallen in love with her. Spike who had known her all along better than anyone. Spike who had saved Dawn by allowing himself to be tortured. Spike who she had abused and used up...he was gone. He died for her, for them. She fell to the ground suddenly unable to support her own weight and cried. Looking down to see her tears mixing with the dust on the tracks.  
  
  
Buffy awoke with a start, safe in her bed. Her breathing heavy and her body covered in sweat from the nightmare she had just escaped from.   
  
The air was still. Sunlight filtered through the windows. Since she often had late nights over at the Double Meat and then slaying duties on top of that, she often slept whenever she got a chance during the day.   
  
She had nodded off, still feeling exhausted from the ordeal at Xander and Anya's almost wedding on the second afternoon since it had happened.   
  
Now she lay trying to catch her breath and control her feelings.   
  
It had been horrific and as much as she wanted to simply repeat the 'it was just a dream, it was just a dream, it was just a dream' mantra in her head until it washed away the memory of it, she knew she couldn't.   
  
The dream had that strange quality about it that her prophetic dreams had. Her stomach did flip flops as she remembered the dreams she had experienced about Angel before his transformation into Angelus before she had to send him to hell to save the world. They were vague and strange and seemed so real...just like this. 'But what could it mean?' Her mind struggled to understand what she had seen, what she had felt.   
  
  
Spike had saved herself, Xander and Willow from an oncoming train and Anya had left them to die, obviously having gone back to being a vengeance demon.   
  
She bolted up. 'Anya! ... I have to stop her! Have to talk to her before she does something that...' A light and a raging of wind in the room interrupted her thoughts. Buffy spun to see the demon, the same one that had locked them all in her house on her birthday. What had Anya called her? Halfrek? Hallie?  
  
"What are you doing in my house?!," Buffy demanded, sounding more confident than she felt after the brush with her nightmare.  
  
"Just to take you on a little trip.," she answered without showing any evidence of emotion, her eyes sparkling in her veiny face with an evil glint. "It's time for justice."  
  
  
To be continued... 


	2. Chapter Two

Spike wandered in the moonlight of his cemetery, just aching for an opportunity to demolish the first demon or fledgling vampire that would dare trespass into his territory. It happened every night of course, but tonight was one of those rare nights that seemed a little slow for his taste. He needed distraction. He needed something to pulverize. And the night just wasn't yielding what he'd desired. So far there had only been two vamps tonight and it had been an hour since he'd seen any action.  
  
One very, very long hour.  
  
His mind kept both blessing and brutalizing him with the image of Buffy at the wedding. That had been the last time he'd seen her. They were pretty much steering clear of each other since she had called it off with him.   
  
The Harris wedding had been the first time he'd seen her since, and the last. He hadn't heard from her, the bit or any of them. He had thought of sneaking around Buffy's house to see how things were, but he'd only get caught and be scolded by her again. She'd then go on to tell him once again how it was over between them. That was something he wasn't prepared to hear again right now.  
  
  
Buffy...she had looked so beautiful that day. Amazing that even she could pull it off in that bloody abomination of a dress. But she had. She was radiant, her smile lit up with room every time she entered it.   
  
And it had ripped his heart out while making him deliriously happy at the same time.   
  
To see her that happy, knowing it was probably from the relief...no longer having to feel the guilt she'd been feeling for having allowed herself to be with a 'thing' like him.   
  
Yet, she was happy and that had to count for something.   
  
  
When she made that crack about the dress being radio-active and looked at him the way she had, with that smile...it was a piece of heaven. She'd utterly melted him.   
  
He left out of respect for her. After she had gone so far as to tell him that seeing him with that bint he brought caused her pain, there was really no point in causing any further awkwardness for her.   
  
He had slipped and apologized to her, for causing her pain. Apologized to her for causing *her* pain! What a bloody laugh riot. He kicked himself mentally for the loss of control. He had tried to turn it around, of course. "Or,..Good!," but how pathetic was that and far too late anyway. She just stood there with that smile, like an all too knowing angel.   
  
  
The double edged sword that was Buffy Summers was too much, especially for a wedding. That taste of normalcy they could never have, even if they were together, publicly and without shame.   
  
How could they? She was a slayer. He was a vampire. Good. Evil. She would be breaking records if she made it to age 25. He would live on indefinitely, untouched by age or the frailty brought on by time. He could never walk with her in the sunlight. He could never give her a normal life, marry her, have children... He acted as if these things never bothered him, but in truth he was aware of them, as much as she was.  
  
It occurred to him then he was becoming more and more like his brooding grand-sire each minute.  
  
'Wouldn't peaches just love that. To see me following in his nancy boy footsteps!'   
  
Then he remembered Buffy with him in the house, that first time, as in fell in all around them without either of them noticing, Buffy with him in his crypt...*everywhere* in his crypt, oddly, except the bed. Buffy with him outside, in front of her house. 'Maybe Peaches wouldn't love it so much after all.' He thought at last with a small chuckle.   
  
Things were better...for about three seconds.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Xander Harris had finally left the flea bag motel and taken to the streets. He still could not bring himself to go back to the apartment and face Anya. He couldn't get up the nerve to face any of them. To have to explain things that he never wanted to have to explain to them. Maybe later he could bring himself to do it. But not now. Now, he was avoiding them and having to explain himself at all costs.   
  
He had walked for the rest of the afternoon after checking out of the motel. He had wandered without direction, sometimes staring off into space trying to imagine a way that things could be okay again, other times he just discreetly observed anonymous couples and families on afternoon strolls, as they window shopped or got a bite to eat.   
  
He saw the happy ones, he saw the not-so happy ones. And he wondered for the millionth time which kind he and Anya would have been had he not...walked out on her. He wondered if he had made the right decision.  
  
  
Now everyone was back home, safe and secure in their lighted houses. Not many people roamed the streets of Sunnydale after dark. Residents knew better than that. Even visitors usually heard through the grapevine that unless you were looking the suicidal route, moonlit walks in Sunnydale weren't really advisable.  
  
There was nothing to see. He had been sitting in the park now on a bench for he didn't know how long. He didn't want to stay there anymore. He wanted to walk again, to move, to be going somewhere and know where he was going.   
  
More than anything he just wanted to know where he was going.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Spike was about to give up and go back to his crypt. Watch a little late night telly. He was bored of all this walking about in the night, listening to the breeze and thinking of Buffy in that very, very green dress. That very, very beautiful laugh, that he'd almost never heard since she gotten back from...   
  
His thoughts were mercifully allowed to trail off when he heard a sound in the distance. Near the entrance to the cemetery he heard a scuffle begin. 'About bloody time!' He ran towards the noise, somewhere in the back of his mind still marveling at how he was now rushing to save some pathetic human's life that a few years ago he would've just as much enjoyed taking for himself. More marveling and mysterious than that however, was that he wasn't sure anymore how he felt about that anymore.  
  
Once he came up on the scene he quickly noted a dark haired man struggling with a Kolariah demon. 'Hadn't been expecting one of those this time of year. I wonder what--,' his thoughts were interrupted by a grunting sound from the struggling human just as Spike was approaching the battle. The sound was unmistakable.  
  
After a summer of fighting the forces of darkness together, he knew only too well the sound of Xander Harris.  
  
  
In an instant he was pulling the demon back by it's large red dorsal fin and giving it all the frustration he had within him about the current sorry state of affairs that was his life, er,...unlife.   
  
It was dead in all of fifteen seconds.  
  
Xander looked dazed on the ground. Looking from Spike to the dead demon to his surroundings...as if he didn't know exactly how he'd gotten there. Spike reached out his hand with a smirk, helping the seemingly lost young man to his feet.  
  
"Decide it was a good time for a 2 a.m. stroll? What the hell are you doing here anyway... shouldn't you be--," through the prattle with Xander a realization came crashing through. Spike looked around furiously with a sudden panic. "Where's demon girl?! Was there another one where that one came from?!"  
  
"Wha-?"  
  
"Another Kolariah! Wasn't demon girl with you?" He stared at Xander demandingly and Xander stared back thoughtfully more so than anything else. Surprised that Spike seemed so upset by the idea of something happening to Anya. The pause gave Spike sufficient time to be surprised by it as well.  
  
"Anya wasn't with me." Xander stated flatly.   
  
"Oh," Spike sighed feeling deflated by the loss of his sudden unexpected burst of anxiety. 'That's been happening more and more lately, come to think...' Something about the thought he was about to have disturbed him, so he pushed it away. He turned his full attention back to the mess of a man that stood in front of him.   
  
  
For the first time completely taking in Xander's appearance, Spike noted that the boy was still wearing his penguin suit, which now looked ruined. He looked like hell, half dead, eyes far off and red rimmed as if he hadn't slept since the ceremony. His hair mused and his face unshaven. And unlike usual Xander fare he was now just standing there. Not speaking a word, staring at his scuffed and muddy shoes now with some pink-ish demon goo adorning them as well, as if he were waiting for Spike to say something. Spike, for his part, considered him with a furrowed brow of consideration. For the first time in their shared history, he thoughtfully weighed his words before speaking them.  
  
"So,...what the bloody hell happened to you?"  
  
Xander looked up at him, looking to be somewhere between stricken and offended that Spike had asked. He seemed to be considering what to say. Then he remembered suddenly who he was talking to. 'Hey this is Spike, we're talking about here. What do I care if he judges me...he's evil! I don't care what he thinks about it!' The thoughts were forceful but he still felt unsure. Yet, with Spike bluntness seemed the best option.  
  
"I left Anya before the ceremony," his voice was flat and he didn't look up to meet Spike's eyes as he spoke.   
  
"What!?," Spike sounded surprised, shocked even. Something inside Xander started to hurt even more. 'Even Spike thought I wouldn't be so stupid as to do this...' "Why? What the hell happened?"  
  
Xander looked from side to side. He didn't want to talk about this now. Especially not with Spike! This was ridiculous. Of all the people...of all the non-people to run into...it had to be Spike!   
  
"You know, Spike, I really don't feel like discussing this with you," he tried to reproduce the tone he always used in his Spike conversations, but he felt too tired to pull it off perfectly.   
  
"Right then." There was another awkward pause in which Xander completely missed the almost imperceptible expression of hurt cross Spike's features.   
  
Spike considered what had happened. Never had he thought that Xander and Anya wouldn't actually go through with their wedding. They had stuck through worse things than that surely... He'd accepted who she used to be, vengeance demon and all, and she'd accepted the more annoying aspects of his personality. They had gone through so much together, including a hell god. It just seemed a shame for them to call it quits now. So pointless. The ones who had love didn't even know well enough to hang onto it. 'Bloody hell, I've gone soft.' He felt sorry for them. Sorry for the demon-girl and sorry for the whelp.   
  
He almost laughed out loud it was so ridiculous.  
  
  
They just stood there in silence. Spike fully expected Xander to take off any minute after having had the resident 'thing' save his life, without so much as a word of thanks. Typical. To his surprise, Xander didn't budge. Instead he just stared at the Kolariah that had almost taken his life, stared at it almost regretfully.   
  
Xander felt Spike's eyes boring into him and he looked at him. Then he looked at his shoe again. He began wiping the pink demon goo off on the grass.   
  
"What was that thing anyway?"  
  
"Kolariah demon. Nasty buggars. Usually hang around areas with lots of water. Ocean, a lake, if there's going to be a flood or something you might see them come into other areas. I would've thought this one wandered from the beach front but I don't know why a kolariah would come this far--"  
  
There was a flash of light and a coinciding crash of thunder. Spike and Xander, deadpan expressions identical on each face, looked upwards to the overcast sky.   
  
The downpour started.   
  
  
  
As luck would have it, the pouring rains were the very least of their troubles.   
  
Moments after the initial cloud burst, another Kolariah demon came barreling towards them. Only this one was much, much larger.  
  
Xander had no idea where it had even come from. Neither had he the time to prepare for it to slam into him with all the force of a charging elephant. It was spewing that same pink goo, only more so. 'Why me?,' was the last conscious thought Xander registered when it hit him. Then there was nothing but darkness.  
  
Spike was on it by that time. The Kolariah, Xander and Spike landed on the ground in one heavy heap. The Kolariah quickly turned it's attention to Spike, the obviously stronger of the two opponents.   
  
It took Spike a little longer to deal with this one. Occasionally getting knocked away. In the time it would take him to recover and get back on his feet, the Kolariah would have moved over to Xander's motionless form, preparing to consume it by covering him in the pink secretion, a substance that acted as a digestive aid for the creature. 'Hope that tux wasn't a rental,' he thought, as he charged the Kolariah one last time.   
  
Stakes weren't the most effective weapons against demons such as Kolariahs but he had to improvise. It wasn't pretty. But it was satisfying. It had been the kind of thing Spike had been longing for all night. Very invigorating.   
  
But now he was left with a problem.   
  
  
Once the Kolariah was taken care of, he was left soaking wet, standing in the pouring rain of the cemetery, an unconscious Xander Harris covered in pink goo on the ground in front of him.   
  
At least the rain would wash off the digestive gunk that was covering him, but Spike had to wonder now what he should do with the boy.   
  
'Should leave him here is what I should do!'  
  
He thought about it for a few seconds. But he realized he couldn't just leave the boy there. 'I mean, then I would've just sodding wasted this whole thing, saving his sorry life and all.' Having decided, he heaved an exasperated and equally unnecessary sigh, walking over to the still unconscious form, waiting until he saw that the rain water had indeed washed off all the Kolariah's digestive goo. And then, hating every moment, he scooped him up to take him to his crypt until he came to.   
  
  
  
To Be Continued... 


	3. Chapter Three

As Xander came to, he first noted that he was in a bed. It didn't seem like he should be in a bed...   
  
He tried as best he could in his groggy state, to remember exactly how he had gotten there. As usual memories came flooding back in a specific order... And the first memory to surface took hold and wouldn't let him go. He had left Anya. At their wedding ceremony, he had left her!   
  
He saw perfectly the heart wrenching image of her in his mind, her in her wedding gown, looking gorgeous, with tears streaming down her pretty face. His stomach did flip flops as he remembered looking from that tearstained face to his father in another screaming match with his mother. That lead to a steady stream of older memories, all cutting into him. All reasons for why he had left...   
  
He wanted to believe it had all been some nightmare he was just waking up from...but of course, that was impossible. As impossible as changing the past...  
  
He shut his eyes tightly against the images, only to have others, unbidden come into his mind's eye. The visions that the demon had shown him.   
  
Particularly the last vision. When he came at Anya, crying out in rage and then... Well, he didn't know what had happened next, but it felt like something nightmarish must have followed. He didn't know how many times he had thought of this...he wasn't even sure how long it had been now since the wedding...   
  
Xander only knew that each time, the memories chilled him and horrified him just as much as when the demon had first deceived him, even more so. He felt a sudden, overwhelming queasiness overtake him.   
  
Pulling himself over to the side of the bed, he lost all the vending machine junk that had made up the whole of his non-nutritionally balanced meals for some time now, onto the floor below.   
  
"Oh...bloody hell," came Spike's exasperated tone.   
  
After the task of emptying his stomach was done, he lifted his head slowly and looked up past the foot of the bed. To his great dismay he saw Spike sitting in a chair, almost obscured in the darkness of a corner. The room...if you could call it a room, it was more like part of a cavern, was lit only by two lamps, one by the bedside and one near the chair where Spike appeared to have been reading a book.   
  
  
Now there was an appropriate look of disgust on each face. Spike, because he'd just seen Xander throw up all over one of his new rugs. And Xander because he had just realized he wasn't still in the motel. He was in Spike's crypt...in *Spike's bed*?  
  
'Perfect,' Spike thought. He'd worked so hard on fixing the place back up after Buffy and Captain Cardboard's little game of GI Joe... He had worked almost non stop on it. He'd gotten new furniture, new lamps, new accessories to make his home more "homey" and oh yeah,...new area rugs. It was still a little charred around the edges but it was starting to look pretty decent again and now, there was Xander, barfing up some disgusting assortment on his new stuff. 'Figures.'  
  
"Hope you realize I just got that," Spike explained testily. "You owe me a new area rug."   
  
Xander didn't answer. He was stuck on another thought.  
  
"Am I in your bed?"  
  
Spike almost smiled.   
"Yes," he spoke to the boy slowly, drawing the word out, as if he were talking to someone who was mentally ill.   
Not that he was sure that 'mentally ill' didn't entirely apply to the Harris boy.  
  
"The bed that you...did your...exercising in?"  
  
Actually, it wasn't the same bed. He'd had to get a new one after the...incident. Had to hire a bunch of bloody people, well not so much people as demons (people asked too many questions), just to get it down there, along with the rest of the furniture and new stuff he had acquired...   
Still,... it was irresistible. The look on Xander's face... He had seen him swallow hard before saying the word 'exercising' and he'd almost lost it.   
  
Spike delivered the line with his best poker face, yet his eyes could not hide the glint of mischief and surpressed laughter.   
"Well,...I was on the other side."  
  
At that moment, Xander jumped out of the bed as if it had caught fire, narrowly missing the ruined area rug on the floor below.  
"I think I'm going to be sick again."  
  
"Right. Should've known you would blame me for you upchucking all over my stuff."  
  
"Hey!," Xander protested. He looked around warily for a moment, as if he had began the protest without knowing where it was going. His mind was fuzzy... 'How did I get here?' Instead he blurted out, "Why am I here in the first place!?"  
  
"Oh I see, you're also going to blame me for you getting attacked by *two* Kolariah demons and me saving you *twice* then carrying your sorry carcass out of the rain before you got attacked again." This time Spike spoke without looking up at Xander, instead studying the book he held, his voice calm and casual with just a touch here and there of his almost trademark sarcasm.  
  
Xander considered this, just beginning to remember what had happened. The thing with the red scales and with goo...not exactly pleasant. The and the second one was...even less pleasant. His mouth was poised to say something, but it never came out as more than a sputtering sound.   
Spike continued.  
  
"How many times have I saved you now, anyway? I lost track after thirty-five or so..."  
  
"*You* have *not* saved me thirty-fi--"  
  
"And you know, one would think a person would eventually gain some sort of appreciation. I mean, I'm not talking about actually being treated like a person, instead of like that rug you just ruined...but a simple thank you every now and then, that would be--"  
  
"Thank you," Xander grumbled, cutting off Spike's rant. The expression was spoken so low that Spike almost thought he had imagined it.   
  
And it caught him completely off guard.   
  
He stared at Xander, setting his book down on the table beside him absently. He said nothing for...well, it must've been a record for a Spike/Xander verbal sparring match.  
  
"What did you say?," he asked finally, not able to believe without hearing it again.  
  
Xander sighed. He had only been out for a little less than an hour. Spike could still hear the steady rains outside. Xander looked tired and pale and...devastated really. Completely conquered. 'But conquered enough to say...?'  
  
"I said thank you. Now could we just drop it?" He really hadn't wanted to say it, but he had. 'Anything really *can* happen in Sunnyhell...,' Spike thought, amused at the irritation he could hear beneath the fatigue in Xander's tone. The boy sounded even more exhausted and distressed than he looked. That was hard to believe considering Xander now looked about five shades paler than Spike did, a sheen of sweat covering him from his fitful sleep and it looked as though it were taking all his strength just to stand up straight.   
  
He was sick, tired and mentally wrecked. Spike felt like he could relate even though he knew vampires really couldn't be sick quite in the way that Xander was right now,...from a mixture of heartbreak, stress, fear, too much junk food on the stomach and too little sleep. But it was only the last two that did not contribute to Spike's own periodic bouts of sickness, the worst of which had been the weeks immediately following Buffy's death, that past summer.   
  
"Harris, why don't you just lay yourself back down. I do wash the sheets you know." He was actually half smiling now, unable to believe Xander Harris had actually thanked *him*, 'the evil thing,' as he walked over towards the ladder. "In fact, I'll have to change them again today since you got 'em all wet and dirty... Hey, maybe you wouldn't mind doing that while you clean up that mess beside the bed." In passing he tossed Xander a stack of clean, dry clothes. "And you might want to change too."   
  
Spike threw a glance back Xander's way as he started up the ladder, only to see him swaying. Xander then looked down to the rug he was about to clean and his hand flew over his mouth. The other hand dropped the clothes he had been holding. He became even more discolored.  
  
"All right then!," Spike began quickly, not wanting to waste any time, as he rushed back down the ladder. "On second thought...let's get you something to calm your stomach before you ruin *all* my new stuff." He had really put too much time, energy and money into erasing the damage done, at least to his crypt, during Riley Finn's short stay, to let that happen. He made his way up the ladder after Xander, in case the boy should actually faint, fall back down and crack open his noggin. Slayer would never believe him if Xander managed to kill himself in his crypt. She'd stake him for the murder before he could get two syllables out in explanation.  
  
  
Spike took Xander over to the mini refrigerator that he kept in the corner of the upper level of his crypt. Opening it up, he took in what he had to offer other than some fresh pig's blood which he guessed Xander wouldn't enjoy hearing about right now.   
  
"So what'll it be?" In answer to Spike's question Xander just stared into the frige blankly. Spike continued undaunted. "Let's see,... I have some soda water, that should help a bit. And you need to eat something bland to settle your stomach. No more spicy Cajun chips or those cheese doodles for you." Xander swallowed hard, almost losing whatever was left in his stomach at the mere thought of eating those things again.   
  
Spike took a small bottle of soda water out of the mini frige and handed it to Xander. There was a box on top of the mini frige, he went for that next. "And here's some wheatabits. Those should do you up good and proper. No more Xander to clean out of the carpets." Xander was about to take his soda water and wheatabits back down the ladder with him so Spike continued in haste, steering him away from the passage and over to the sarcophagus. "Why don't you just stay here until you down that and feel a little less like vomiting the rest of your stomach lining up. At least this is easier to clean." Xander shot him a look, but with difficulty hoisted himself up onto the sarcophagus, opened the soda water and took a tentative sip.  
  
"K then Whelp, you're all set. I'll be back... Want to watch the telly?" At his own words Spike almost shuddered. He was being all accommodating and considerate. It was disgusting, really.  
  
'Why the hell am I doin' this? The whelp hates me! Always has, always will, made that clear enough...*And* the feeling's *mutual*! I don't bloody care what he thinks! I should toss him out into the rain instead of cater to him like I'm some nancy boy nursemaid!'  
  
  
Xander's eyes were far away as he took out a wheatabit and popped it into his mouth, following it with a swig of the soda water. It did seem to make his stomach feel a bit less raw.   
  
"Why do you have things like soda water and wheatabits, Spike?"   
  
Spike shrugged moving over to the ladder. In truth, the soda water had been for Buffy, when she'd been feeling bad. With all the stress she'd been under lately, he liked to keep things around to make her feel better. Soda water was just one weapon against Buffy sickness and blues in a massive arsenal. That same arsenal had also included anything from liquor, to ice packs to well,... himself. But he decided Xander really wouldn't appreciate hearing that. So he stuck with half-truths.  
  
"Just like 'em. Pretty simple, really."  
  
"Yeah but... I mean, vampires usually just drink blood, right? Angel didn't eat food...or drink anything other than blood...," Xander thought a moment. "In fact, he was really testy about people eating around him. Like it pissed him off or something. He wasn't loud and all 'get out of my face' about it, but it wasn't too hard to pick up on. I just always figured he,...well, vampires in general, couldn't eat." Spike seemed to consider Xander's words in the short pause that followed. It brought back questions he had pondered before, many times. But asking those questions never got him anywhere.   
  
"Well, good thing for you then I'm not like Peaches, huh whelp?"   
  
Xander didn't catch the meaning for a moment. He thought about telling Spike to stop calling him 'whelp,' but the soda water felt good on his sensitive stomach and before he knew it the moment had passed.   
  
Spike spoke up again.   
"Does it help?"  
  
"Sure as hell better than blood, so...," he glanced at Spike to see the bleached vamp with a pointed expression on his face and Xander almost smiled at him. "So okay,... I give you that. I'm glad you're not like Angel. Good to know Evil Dead always has a plentiful stock of wheatabits available."  
  
"Damn straight." Spike said, perfectly serious. "Those things are bloody wonderful." Then he disappeared down into the lower level, leaving Xander alone to contemplate...all those things he *didn't* want to contemplate.   
  
Visions of Anya in tears and his father threatened, but he pushed them away. In desperation, he chose to contemplate other things. Such as how Spike had ended up so different from his sire...and who was his sire anyway? ... Angel had said he was, but then Buffy had mentioned Dru? ... Spike was pretty different from either one of them ... And what were the odds that any other vampire alive or, ... unalive, had a mini frige.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Twenty-some minutes later Xander had consumed about five generous hand-fulls of Spike's 'bloody wonderful wheatabits' and finished off his bottle of soda water. He almost hated to admit, that having done that in addition to having been able to distract himself from the events of the past several days, in truth, the past... nine or ten years since he had been old enough to take notice what went on in his home, made him feel surprisingly better for the moment.   
  
Had it only begun nine or ten years ago? Seemed like fifty... Perhaps it had only started then, but... He was remembering again. He felt an alarm go off in his head. 'Think happy thoughts...well, no happy thoughts to be had...think...weird thoughts, like about how Spike likes wheatabits...possible future cracks I could make about Spike liking wheatabits...' 'How old was I the first time I actually saw him try to hit her?' The alarm sounded again as the unwelcome thought pushed into his mind and Xander hopped off the sarcophagus.   
  
  
He made his way down the ladder into the cavernous underground section of Spike's home, as he continued to try *not* to think about the things he was thinking about. But his mind seemed hell bent on making him crazy.   
  
Before he noticed Spike, he realized that the bed he'd woken up in now had fresh sheets on it. The other set had been blood red and these were...white. The idea struck him as odd, a creature of the darkness sleeping in white sheets, munching on wheatabits while watching daytime soaps. If it had not been for the war waging inside him, he would have chuckled at the image.  
  
He also realized that Spike had cleaned the Xander out of the throw rug. 'Hey I didn't ruin it after all... Not that I'd care. I mean, he's evil. He deserves his rugs to be ruined! ... Man, am I normally this lame? It must be sleep deprivation. Yeah, that's it.'  
  
He saw Spike then, over in the corner near where he'd been sitting before, at a bookshelf. Looked like he was straightening up. Or maybe hiding something. He turned then, not seeming too surprised to see Xander standing at the foot of the ladder. Xander had been hoping to sneak up on the chipless wonder and see exactly what he was up to. 'Stupid vampires with their stupid vampire hearing...' He needed something interesting, to distract him. He just couldn't deal with Anya or his father or what he'd done. Surely, if Spike was hiding something away, it had to be interesting.   
  
"Well, I remembered how you commented on my poor housekeeping last you visited and well, it just hurt me so," Spike explained sarcastically upon seeing Xander's curious expression. Really, he was still in the process fixing everything up from the Finn fiasco. He wondered if Xander had even noticed the charred look of his humble abode...probably not. He was too worried by other matters.   
  
Any fool could see that the boy had a desperate battle raging inside him. There were demons inside him that he was struggling to push away, demons that wanted to destroy him.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Xander started to feel a twinge of something that made his skin crawl. It was...Guilt...about Spike! No couldn't be... It was just,...badness. Badness for what? For having Spike save his life, clean his vomit, feed him...and all for what reason? Xander couldn't actually believe that Spike didn't have some ulterior motive for all this. But as much as he searched his brain, he could think of nothing he would gain...other than perhaps telling his friends what a pathetic mess he'd been, though they would probably see that for themselves in time. 'Maybe he just gets a kick out of watching me miserable.' There that was it. Made perfect sense.   
  
"How are you feelin' now?" Damn it. Didn't Spike know how disconcerting that was when he acted like he actually cared. How *wrong* was that?! It was enough to give Xander nightmares.  
  
"Oh, I'm just dandy! I'm spending the night of what *should* still be my honeymoon in Evil Dead's crypt. Now *that's* what I'd call a dream come true!" The familiar sarcasm between them acted as strange comfort. Xander went on, pretending to be talking to himself. "And I thought things couldn't get any worse." Spike had his back to Xander, picking out a book from the shelf after some consideration. He rolled his eyes at Xander's comments.   
  
Turning, he began to make his way over to the ladder again. On the way picking up the same stack of clothes that he had given to Xander earlier. He tossed them over. Xander caught them more easily this time.  
  
"Here's the clothes you dropped while you were swooning a while ago."  
  
"I was not swooning!"  
  
"Right," Spike chuckled.  
  
Xander examined the clothes Spike had given him to change into for the first time. It did sound like a nice prospect to get out of the dirty, uncomfortable tux that he'd been wearing for days now. It would be good to be dry again. And these clothes actually weren't black...they kinda looked like...  
  
"Hey, these are my clothes!"  
  
  
  
A while later, once Xander had gotten comfortable in his new/old clean clothes, had settled into the bed with crisp white sheets, had some sleep, and after Spike had gotten his fill of soaps in for the day, the two found themselves sharing each other's company once again, down in the lower level of Spike's crypt. Spike was rummaging through a pile of books in the corner and tossing some into a discard pile, those that were too burned to be salvageable and the others he placed carefully in the shelves.   
  
Xander had awoken to this. He watched Spike curiously as the vampire spent considerable time on some books, brushing them off carefully and flipping through the pages quietly, an almost wistful expression gracing his features.   
  
Xander had to wonder about the burned books. He started studying the room...   
  
"So what Spike, you forget to put out your cigarette one night when you went to bed?," Xander asked sarcastically, getting up and walking over next to where Spike stood. He knelt next to him, over the considerably large pile of burnt and semi-burnt books on the floor.   
  
"Yeah," Spike answered dryly, not wanting to admit the truth. Not wanting to humiliate himself further by saying, 'No, it was the slayer and her solider boy. Captain Cardboard himself came by to push me around and, of course, Buffy joined in, taking his side over mine, after having just come in and shagged me conveniently, even getting me to tell her once again that I love her, like the stupid whipped bitch of a vampire I am. So he threatens me, while she insults me. And me all the time, completely helpless against them as they search my place. Then they blow up everything. After that, just for good measure, Buffy comes back to tell me it's over between us. Not as if there was anything between us to start with by her view of it, other than just shagging each other senseless.'  
  
During his internal rant he had totally missed it when Xander had asked him if he was serious. He was once again, hopelessly lost in his mind as he relived his most recent humiliation and betrayal.   
  
Just when he had thought maybe he was getting closer... She had asked him to tell her that he loved her. She'd *never* done anything but tell him *not* to tell her that. Turns out, it was just the next level of her using him. He had finally figured it out in retrospect.  
  
"Hey Spike! You really zone out on those books don't ya? What's the deal?" Xander was feeling a little better physically and a little embarrassed at the same time over all that had happened since he was attacked by the demon with the red scales and the pink goo in the cemetery. He wanted to distract Spike from any talk about it, or about what had happened at the wedding. He didn't know why he didn't just leave now. He wasn't even sure what time it was or exactly how long he'd been sleeping or how long he'd been there.   
  
But where would he go? Back to the motel? To sit by himself and think over and over again of what a fool he had become? To contemplate in silence the possibility that it might be fate...that he would, no matter what, end up just like his father? His grandparents had been just like his parents, after all. Maybe it was just this never-ending vicious cycle... To wonder how he could ever accept the risk of getting as close to someone he loved as he had been about to with Anya? To remember all those things he'd rather forget. So many things he wanted to forget.   
  
Not to mention the fact that the others were probably out looking for him now. The thought of facing them still terrified them. He didn't know if he'd ever felt so ashamed of himself. And he couldn't even form the words inside his head to explain to them what he had done and more importantly, why.  
  
  
One thing that kept coming to his mind was Willow. Willow, his best friend in the whole world, since they were...what? A year old? She would never forgive him for not confiding in her. Well, she *would* forgive him...that was just Willow, but she would always be hurt about the fact that he hadn't trusted her enough to let her know. There were so many things she didn't know. She knew his parents weren't exactly...blissful together. But she'd never known about how bad things got. He'd kept her away from that. To protect her...or to protect himself, the latter felt more true, even though he reasoned the first to be his actual reason.   
  
It was true however, that he didn't want her to worry for him. He could handle himself. And on those occasions when he had been hit, hurt in some way...it had been easy enough to make up a lie. He'd lied to Willow. She would never understand that either. Never understand the shame he felt at his father's words to him.   
  
  
His father who had challenged him to fight, whenever he would try desperately to take up for his mother. His mother, in turn would always defend his father during these times. He never understood it. *Why* she defended him, even when she was using extra concealer every day to cover up her bruises? ... Even when she knew that he had hurt both of them...   
  
After time, he'd just come to accept it, most days. It was all he knew, after all. His mom said nothing was wrong with their family, when Xander would raise the question to her. If she wanted that kind of life, maybe she knew what was best for her. He was just a stupid loser anyway. His father was right about that,... and the weak part...right on the money.   
  
No wonder he'd been so desperate to be a part of the scooby team, even if it got him killed. For once he just wanted to prove his dad wrong. Just once he wanted to not believe all the insults and cruel statements from his father that he'd endured all his life. Maybe if he could prove himself, things would finally change. That's what he had thought anyway. 'What an idiot,' Xander thought of himself in contempt. Nothing had ever changed.   
  
  
None of his friends would understand why he had kept it a secret. They would see him for who he really was then. They would see the boy his father saw whenever he looked at him. He would be weak to them. Weaker even than they had considered him before. Wasn't it considered mental to allow yourself to be beaten, abused...verbally and physically...to know further, that it was also happening to someone you loved,... even if she didn't really love you, and to still do nothing! They would think he was crazy!   
  
None of them understood what it was like. Buffy had the best mom ever, even if her dad did turn out to be a loser, at least he'd left and not hung around to try to knock the shit out of them and make them feel worthless and miserable the rest of the time. Not that Joyce would have ever allowed such a thing to take place.   
  
Willow's family left a lot to be desired. Most times, he didn't even think her parents really knew who she was. And yet, he had been so jealous of her growing up. He had felt such a yearning to be their child, especially early on, when things first started to go so wrong. Willow's parents were well meaning people, polite, loving... Even if it was on a superficial level, it was better than not loving at all. It was better than the fighting. The screaming and yelling that would eventually escalate into something... far worse.  
  
But there were no words to truly explain these things.  
  
  
They would never understand why he had to do what he did on his wedding day. Why he had to protect Anya from a life like the one he had, a life like his mother had. He loved her too much for that. She was too good to live like that. 'But if you hadn't been such an idiot, maybe you could've figured that out *before* you asked her to marry you and then had to stand her up on your *wedding day* of all days!'   
  
If he ever even got to speak to her again, how would he ever explain to *her*!? Explain that the reason he couldn't say "I do," that day was because he was trying to save her...from him. It sounded so stupid. She would hate him, like she probably already did. But he would rather her hate him now and always and be able move on. Better that than knowing she was somewhere crying her eyes out, that he had permanently damaged her in some way.  
  
  
Xander shook himself from his warring thoughts, suddenly very aware he was standing next to Spike, of all creatures. Having a breakdown here would be the next worst possible event that could take place. He looked up from the pile of destroyed books he had been staring at when he zoned out, into the realm of nightmares again. Spike had not noticed his wandering mind, apparently because he had one of his own. He was holding another book, a thin book that looked as if it were older than he was, and burnt now to boot. He just stared at it, appearing incredibly...stricken, sad. Suddenly, unmasked in a way that Xander could not remember ever seeing him. He almost felt that he was looking at a variation on his own reflection. Like Spike was experiencing something like he had only moments ago.   
  
Having these kinds of sympathetic stirrings for Spike was not a feeling he liked to have. So he moved away, surveying some of Spike's other stuff. Moving over to a portable CD player he noted a small stack of CDs. 'Hmmm, let's see what Mr. Billy Idol wannabe has here...' His eyebrows shot up in surprise at he sifted through the few titles that was there.  
  
"Britney Spears,...Foxy Brown, and...Pink!?" He looked at Spike, highly amused, with a question in his expression. Spike glanced up.  
  
"Dawn's. She and I have been doin' this kind of music exchange thing."  
  
Xander looked in shock at the bleach blonde vamp before him. He wasn't sure what about this was the most strange.  
"So... I mean, Dawn... So,... you listen to these?!," he asked incredulously.  
  
"Why shouldn't I? Nibblet gave 'em to me to try out. If a girl her age is open-minded enough to give the Sex Pistols a listen then I don't see why I shouldn't try her stuff out... I trust her judgment a hell of a lot more than most around here." He glanced at Xander again who was eyeing the borrowed CDs with amusement then added, "'Specially yours."  
  
Xander noticed Spike finally part with the burnt book he'd been studying. But he didn't put it in the pile on the floor with the other fire damaged literature. Instead he put it up in the shelf. Xander ignored Spike's offhanded insult. It was pretty weak for someone who'd just got caught with Britney Spears. He didn't even feel the need to retaliate. He also made a mental note to try to get close enough to that book, without drawing Spike's attention, and see what it was before he left.  
  
"And 'sides of which," Spike continued. "Don't know who you are to talk. Don't think Anya didn't tell me 'bout your Backstreet Boys lunch box." Spike had to turn to face the boy, knowing the expression would be priceless. And it was...eyes bugging out, his mouth moved for several moments but no sound came out. 'Oh...if it could only *always* be this way...'  
  
"Wha-, I don't hav-...Anya said?...She..." Spike couldn't contain himself, within moments his classic "Spike smirk" was plastered all over his face. "Hey! It's only for the collectable value! I'm planning on putting it up for re-sale. Having a girl like Anya around ain't cheap."  
  
"Well, guess you won't have to worry 'bout that anymore," Spike's smirk faded as he turned his attention back to the books.  
  
That cut. Xander *so* did not want to talk about this. So much more did he not want to talk about it with *Spike*. He looked back down at the CDs again.  
  
"So which did you like the best?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Foxy, Britney or Pink?" Xander almost grimaced, hoping Spike would take the bait and forget the Anya thing.  
  
"Well, that Foxy's a real tart...no problem with that mind you,...but I couldn't get past the idea of the lil bit listening to that sort of thing. I mean, gotta wonder if Buffy knows the kinda stuff her lil sis listens to..." Xander tilted his head and gave him a look as if he'd grown an extra head. 'Is "William the Bloody" worried about Dawn being influenced by music and becoming a bad girl? Is this the twilight zone?' "Britney's cheeky, I'd love to sink my teeth into..." Off Xander's look he let that one go and moved on. "But overall I'd have to say I fancy that Pink the most...she's got spunk, her music's bit more towards my tastes. And don't bloody change the subject. What are you going to do, just go on hiding from your ex and all your mates and pretend nothing happened?"  
  
"Of course, shoulda known...she's got that punk thing going on," Xander commented looking over the album cover, not wanting to meet Spike's gaze that he could now feel leveled at him. Spike cleared his throat. He was not having it. Xander took a deep breath. It was just as he'd feared.   
  
"I told you, Spike. I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"What do I care what you want?"   
  
Xander was at a loss, Spike had him on that one.  
  
"Why'd you leave her, Harris?"  
  
It wasn't the words so much that threw Xander off... it was the tone, completely devoid of the usual snideness and sarcasm, not even a hint of them to be found. Instead, it sounded...sincere, almost gentle and...filled with sympathy. Suddenly Xander found himself terrified that Spike already knew the answer to the question. That this was just some elaborate trap to draw him out and humiliate him.   
  
The thought then entered his mind that he could simply run up the ladder and out of the crypt. It wasn't likely that Spike would follow. He wouldn't have to explain. But somehow that seemed...undignified and he didn't want to give Spike anymore ammo.   
  
"What do you care?!," he spat out angrily. He didn't want to be pushed about this. And it was *so* like Spike to be the one pushing him.   
  
He still felt unstable inside himself. He still reeled every time he was confronted with the thoughts that had driven him away. He couldn't deal with this right now. Maybe never.   
  
"I don't," Spike stated simply after the short pause. "I'm just trying to make conversation."  
  
"Well don't."  
  
Spike spun around to the boy who was still standing several feet away, now studying the liner notes of the Britney CD.  
  
"You don't know a bloody thing about being a guest in someone's home do you, Harris? No wonder with that nightmare of a family you've got. Speaking of raised in a barn..."  
  
"Shut up, Spike," Xander snapped, wincing at the mention of his family in spite of himself.  
  
"Well I'll have you know, Whelp. When you're in my bloody house and I want conversation you'll oblige me!"  
  
"This isn't a house. It's a hole in the ground, under a crypt,...where dead things live. Those rules don't apply."  
  
That was it. He'd had just about enough of this.  
  
  
Xander heard a low growl emanate from Spike. Deep inside his mind came the thought that, 'this can not be good,' but still, he held his ground. Spike had the chip, after all. He kept reminding himself he could do no damage. He was now finding Britney's lyrics so completely fascinating...that he didn't even look up to see Spike scowling at him.  
  
"Fine then," he ground out. "You don't want to tell me, I'll just call it as I see it. I'm a hell of a lot better at honesty than you are, Harris. You haven't been honest with anyone lately, have you?"  
  
Xander felt that run instinct kick in. But still he was unable to move. His legs felt like jelly at the prospect of what could be coming. He'd rather die than have himself be that transparent...surely Spike didn't really know about...  
  
"You never even loved her did you?!," Spike demanded, and this time Xander did look up at the vampire before him, in shock. "You just used her and strung her along on crumbs of hope and then when you'd had enough, you dropped her cause you didn't figure an ex-demon was good enough for the likes of you!"   
  
"What?!," Xander's voice came out somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. He'd been expecting Spike to say something terrible...his biggest fear would've been that he would have spoken the terrible truth, but never did he expect...*that*. 'How could he think that?! What if the others think that?! What if *Anya* thinks that?!' Xander's agitation increased by tenfold. "I love Anya!" He yelled back at Spike, walking right up to him in the most challenging stance he could muster. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me! She's...She's the only person I've ever loved who has loved me back so...unconditionally and so fully...she's made me a better person. I love her more than anyone! That's the reason I left!"  
  
Spike was a little taken aback by Xander's extreme reaction, the desperation and conviction of his words. He knew that his own outburst had been the result of him over identifying with the jilted ex-demon, yet he couldn't help feeling a kinship to her. Couldn't help thinking that Xander had the same reasons behind dropping her as Buffy had in dropping him. But Buffy would never have told anyone she loved him, especially not with the vigor that Xander just had.   
  
Although he didn't want to, he was inclined to believe the boy's words. Xander looked extremely brassed off, as if he were ready to punch him,... or try anyway, just for saying that he didn't care about his demon-girl. Spike felt somewhat uplifted by that. Which, he realized was a strange way to feel about it. He had this ridiculous notion of wanting at least one happy ending on the Hellmouth for him to witness... He needed *something* to hold up his long suffering belief in love, after all. It was the one part of William that would never die... and it seemed, ever since Buffy...William was just getting stronger inside him. 'Poofy wanker...,' Spike thought in contempt.   
  
  
Plus, he kinda liked the demon girl. Sure, she was a bit annoying some of the time...well, most of the time. But he liked her blunt honesty. It was pretty refreshing really. Not to mention funny, especially when Xander was involved.   
  
More importantly, she had never been one to get up on her high scooby horse and call him a 'thing' or dwell unnecessarily on the fact that he didn't have a soul. He realized of course, that probably had to do with the fact that in her time she had done far more damage than he had. In fact, at times he had even been jealous of her, more rightly, jealous of the scoobies' unwavering devotion to her despite her past sins, though he didn't for the unlife of him know why. What did he care if they accepted her and shunned him?   
It was just so odd that the slayer, Giles, and the scoobies all accepted her as part of their little 'family,' as they called it. When surely, they must've realized a vengeance demon, especially one of Anya's age and rank must've wrecked far more havoc in her life than he ever had, even as a part of the so called 'scourge of Europe.'   
  
At least, the worst a vampire could do was torture and kill...and Spike, for his part, had never really been into the torture and maiming part...that was Angelus's forte. But Anya, in her days as Anyanka could torture in ways even Angelus couldn't manage.   
  
Strangely enough though, he'd never brought these points up to any of them. As much as he wanted to believe it was because he could've cared less...he knew really it was because he knew poor Anya would never survive being treated the way he was treated by them. If Xander and the others turned on her, she would have no place in the world... She loved them, especially the whelp for some unfathomable reason...and they loved her back. She didn't deserve to have that taken away. He knew how bad it felt and he certainly wouldn't be the cause of it happening to her.   
  
  
Xander was reeling from his own outburst, in the truth of how much he loved Anya and in the almost irreversible fate that would surely befall them because of his moronic behavior. He still didn't know what to do though. He had thought this over a million times and he'd never come up with any answer other than knowing that he loved her.   
  
Maybe if he went back to her, somehow convinced her to forgive him, it would be okay again. Maybe they could stay together, get married, have children, love each other and support each other and never even resemble the lifestyle that Xander had grown up in. But what if he got back together with her and some variation on the demon's visions came true? What if she wished she'd never married him? What if he drank all the time and they yelled all the time and they screwed up their kids lives just as much as his parents had screwed up his... What if he hurt her? What if he raised his hand to her? How could he know for sure? Probably no horrible failed or abusive marriage started out with the two parties thinking that was how it would turn out.   
  
No two people who loved each other enough to commit to marriage would ever think that things could turn out so...wrong. But it did. Obviously, it happened all the time. How could he risk doing that to Anya? How could he risk doing that to his own children?   
  
How could he risk becoming the man in the demon's visions?  
  
But he missed her so much. Maybe it was possible. Maybe if he was completely honest about his fears concerning himself up front, they could work on it. Together. They could make sure that never happened. Anya was no shrinking violet. She wouldn't just take it if he started to slowly turn into his father, after all. But...no, it was too late for that. He should've been honest from the get go and now...now, undoubtedly he had lost his chance. He'd left. He hadn't even stayed to help her "clean up" after the wedding. He left her with his family... He prayed to God that the others had taken care of everything. That they had been there for her... What Spike had thought about him...that he had used Anya, that he didn't really want her, love her... Anya probably thought that too. The thought of her believing that ripped his heart out. He felt like he couldn't breathe. 'God, Anya...what have I done to you? ... What have I done?'   
  
Suddenly he saw Anya again, in his mind. Quite clearly he imagined her...crying, like she had been at the wedding. Barely able to speak through her sobs. "You...never even...loved me....did you Xander? You didn't want to... be with me?," the last part sounded like a squeak. She continued in a high whimper. "I felt that you didn't...want to marry me. I just wo- wouldn't let myself see. I loved you too much! I was so *stupid*, stupid to ever believe in love after all I've seen. And I... Oh Xander, how could you do this?" Her bloodshot eyes gazed straight into his and the pain seared him straight through. His eyes filled with tears at the vision. "Why?" She broke down, sobbing so hysterically that he couldn't make out anything more that she said, other than his name.  
  
  
Spike watched Xander's eyes fill with tears as the boy walked away, staring at something far off. He sunk down to the floor then, the tears falling fast down his cheeks as he spoke in broken whispers.   
  
"Anya...I'm so sorry. Anya... Please. I just didn't want to hurt you. I know...I've ruined everything. But I just didn't...didn't want him to hurt you...I mean, I didn't want me to hurt you...like he did...Please understand, wherever you are...please, please understand..."  
  
Spike watched in horror. This was far worse than a pink goo-covered Xander, or even a sick Xander ruining his new carpets, this was a crying Xander. Something he'd not really been exposed to before. He knew Xander must've cried when Buffy died. But he had been too caught up in his own emotions to really notice anyone except for Dawn on that day.   
  
He'd never been good with this. People crying. People in emotional pain. Physical pain he could handle, he even enjoyed it. Peoples screams had never bothered him as a vampire, but the pain in people's hearts... From the very beginning, it had been his Achilles' heel. He had tried to overcome it, knew he *must* overcome it. But by that time Angelus had noticed his weakness. That the very kind of thing he loved doing to his prey was the stuff that Spike could not tolerate. Another aggravating part of William's personality that had held. It had been unfortunate, all around. Not only did it make life as a vampire more difficult, but it intrigued Angelus, especially in those early days...  
  
And that weakness had never gone away...  
  
  
He remembered when he'd come back to Sunnydale, after the Gem of Amara was lost to him because the Slayer had sent it to Peaches, who proved what a stupid git he really was by destroying it... Then he'd been captured by the initiative and escaped. He was practically salivating for Slayer blood. He'd meant to go kill her in her dorm room that night, still unaware of the government chip newly implanted in his brain. He wanted his revenge, wanted to bag his next slayer, finally. Instead, he had happened upon Red. He hadn't minded that. He was more than ready to take her, had a good mind to change her too. Girl would make a great vamp. Would serve the Slayer right too. And then, he hadn't been able to bite her, cause of the chip. Though at the time he had no idea what was wrong with him.   
  
There he was, pacing back and forth, freaking out, attempting in desperate intervals to try and get his fangs into her tender flesh... He kept shaking his head over and over thinking of the curse that seemed to reign down on him whenever he set foot in Sunnyhell. Now he couldn't even feed! Each time he came back things just kept getting worse! But of course, he always came back. Yet, there in the middle of it all, he'd realized the Red was in pain.   
  
"It's me isn't it?," her tiny voice invaded his mind, he heard the pain in it and sliced right through his contemplation of what the hell was wrong with him and how he could bloody fix it before he got captured again.   
  
"What are you talkin' about?," he'd asked, confused by the statement as he continued his pacing.  
  
"Well, you came looking for Buffy and settled. You didn't want to bite me, I just happened to be around."  
  
"Piffle," he waved off the notion. But she wasn't buying it. He could see it in her eyes as she continued and he started to stare at her, concern unknowingly etched itself onto his features along with the confusion at what the girl was thinking. She had been broken by someone, probably the werewolf. She thought she wasn't attractive, thought nobody would want her.  
  
"I know I'm not the kinda girl vamps like to sink their teeth into. It's always like, "Ooo you're like a sister to me," or "Oh, you're such a good friend!" For that moment, just seeing the look on her face, his attention focused, away from the unlife-changing event of no longer being able to feed, to *making her feel better*.   
  
"Don't be ridiculous...," he said looking her in the eye to show his sincerity as he sat down next to her on the bed. "I'd bite you in a heartbeat." She didn't move away from him, didn't flinch. That had made him feel...strange.   
  
"Really?," she asked, her voice laced heavily with the need for reassurance. The girl had bad luck with romance. He could relate. Bloody ludicrous, really. He couldn't imagine why the werewolf had left her, anymore than he could understand why Dru had left him.  
  
"Thought about it."  
  
"When?," she asked, and it struck him as funny the girl sounded so hopeful at the thought that a vampire wanted to kill her.  
  
"Remember last year, you had on that ah..fuzzy pink number with the lilac underneath?," he gave her a pointed look and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Her face lit up.  
  
"I never would've guessed. You played the bloodlust kinda cool." She was actually smiling! Then, more amazing still, he actually smiled back. It was like he couldn't help himself. It looked as if she hadn't smiled in quite a while. He made her smile. And all he had to do was tell the truth.   
  
So it ended up, that instead of trying to kill the slayer's best friend, he'd been busy working on boosting the girl's self esteem! Of course, in turn she had tried to make *him* feel better about the fact that he couldn't bite her. Hell, she'd even encouraged him to try again. Comforting someone who was about to kill you...*that* at least gave him the reassurance that he wasn't the only one who was off his bird.  
  
  
He had tried to stay out of the Tara incident as well. When her family had come for her, claiming that she was about to turn into a 'disgusting demon,' he had attempted to watch impassively. Really, he had been riveted to the whole scene. Better than one of his favorite soaps, it was. Willow defending her white witch, not even the slightest bit cross with her for almost getting them all killed by casting that spell on them. Buffy acting as if she were about to hand her over to the family willingly, then turning on a dime and telling Tara's father that he would have to come through her if he wanted to take the pixie against her will. He had been as shocked as Tara. Then one by one, the others joined in. Tara had tears in her eyes, moved by their actions and words, protecting her after she had made such a horrible mistake, after she had failed to tell them the truth. He had fought an urge inside him...tried not to be moved by it as well. Still, Tara was torn. Desperately afraid of what she would become and that the others, in the end, would shun her. Looking in her tear-filled eyes, he saw the pain and the fear of rejection by the one she loved. Fear of being rejected by everyone. Then, he didn't just see it in her eyes...he felt it. After he'd figured out what the deal was with her family. The men kept the women almost as slaves, reigning them in with the whole demon trip. And of course, he hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd punched the girl in the nose to prove her humanity. Bloody hurt like hell too when the chip went off.   
  
Something had tugged on his heart, dead as it was, when she chanted in wonder with tears of happiness and freedom glistening still in her big blue eyes, "I'm not a demon." Willow looking at her with love, reaffirming..."You're not a demon." He had hated that.   
  
  
And he hated this. He *so* hated this. Harris on the ground crying. The witches, the bit and of course Buffy was one thing, or...several things...but Harris! That was something else entirely! He really, *really* hated this. He felt so bad, so unsure. Something was seriously wrong here... Wasn't he supposed to be enjoying this!? Getting his kicks and laughs at the whelp's expense? Why did he feel like this!? It was very disconcerting. In fact, it went way beyond that. It was this unmistakable feeling of what it was like before...   
  
Then Xander's words, sent out to Anya somewhere in the void, caught up to him. A light came on in Spike's eyes. He understood. He couldn't believe he had been so daft as to not have seen it before.  
  
Xander was still on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. He crying had subsided somewhat, in that he was no longer openly sobbing and calling out her name, but the tears still silently fell. He was looking down, unable to look at Spike's superior smirk now. It would send him over the edge. 'Maybe I should just ask him to kill me...could be if the victim is willing to die the chip wouldn't send off the negative feedback...Surely that's all it would take to convince him...' He couldn't believe he had lost it like that in front of Spike. 'You know your world has crashed when *that* concern is only secondary...," he thought ruefully. He had lost Anya. 'Anya...'  
  
He sensed Spike sit down a little ways over from him on the floor. He tensed up immediately, preparing for him to say something terrible. Never in a million years ready for what he said instead, in that same strange, serious tone he had used before.  
  
"You're nothing like him, you know..." Spike's voice broke the silence. He dared to glance over at Xander, who was still looking down at his knees. Spike watched a tear fall and hit the boy's hand. He turned away, looking down himself. "You couldn't be, even if you tried." Xander felt his throat constrict, making it hard to swallow the tears he felt rising at Spike's words... The emotions overwhelmed him, both the terror and the relief that he knew... Someone knew. Someone understood it...  
  
There was something else too, in the words themselves as well as in how they were spoken.   
  
It was like when he was in kindergarten. He had hated school...the other kids had picked on him mercilessly and Willow had been his only friend. When they were separated, he had found it unbearable. These times were still within the realm of innocence. When all he felt for both his parents was love and longing to be near to them. Maybe they were even happy back then, he didn't really know.   
  
But he remembered sometimes, his mom would come to the school to help out with something and he would find out in the middle of one of his most terrible days. When it seemed that things could get no more worse, no more unbearable. Out of nowhere, his mom comes and he's rescued. He got to leave school early, with her, after she was finished with whatever she had been doing there to help out. Getting in the car with her...it had felt just like that, getting rescued. She would take his tiny hand in hers. "Bad day?," she would ask knowingly. And he would get that same feeling...the constriction in his throat and the tears that seemed to be rising from the very core of his being. The tears were as much for the relief of having someone who understood how bad it had been, who was trying to help, as for the admission he had to make to himself upon it, that things indeed were bad.   
  
Xander had to shake his head softly at the irony, even as he lost the battle and the new tears escaped from his eyes. He almost laughed it was so ridiculous.   
  
Spike had rescued him.  
  
  
  
  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
  
Next time: Spike and Xander talk about their fathers. Hallie crashes and we find out what happened to Willow and Buffy. 


End file.
